Five days later…
'Should I just run away?'
Claude lounged stiffly in the giant marble bathtub, the steaming water doing little to soothe the rising dread gnawing at his insides. Luxurious rose-scented oils floated on the water's surface, and golden fixtures gleamed under the soft candlelight filling the massive bathroom. Yet, despite the absurd opulence, Claude couldn't have felt more trapped.
He wasn't exactly "relaxing," he was dreading every second of this bath.
Because today was Friday.
The day his grand, glorified improv performance would begin. The day he would have to charm, bluff, and bull his way through the highest of noble society. Delightful.
At least, he consoled himself, he had prepared as much as humanly possible without blowing his cover to smithereens.
Throughout the week, Claude had worked tirelessly, researching everything he could dig up without making himself look suspicious. He now knew plenty of juicy tidbits about the noble houses. Like, for example, that the Redheart family all had ridiculous crimson hair and were a gaggle of smug Elementalists. Very original.
Of course, Claude hadn't just been studying family trees and gossip columns. He had also thrown himself into training his body, mind, and... whatever magic nonsense "Aether" was supposed to be.
He could now circulate Aether efficiently, like a real aristocratic prodigy. He could even focus all his Aether into one precise point on his body in a matter of moments, whether he was moving, sitting, eating, or even doing something completely stupid like bathing in a sea of rosewater.
He could also circulate it the way Roy had taught him for almost an entire hour without messing up. A whole hour. What an achievement. Really makes you wonder why everyone else took years like complete amateurs.
This accomplishment opened some very interesting doors for Claude. First, he could now actually hide his presence when needed. Roy had taught him a method of circulating Aether so subtly it was practically invisible to others, a technique that Claude, of course, mastered faster than anyone had a right to.
Apparently, hiding Aether involved tucking it into some weird "containment points" within the body, and it was different for every person. Most people barely had one or two.
Claude?
He had four.
Naturally.
Roy, wide-eyed and practically singing praises, had informed him that having four containment points was exceedingly rare. Roy hadn't even seen someone with more than two before. Claude just accepted it with a humble nod while internally smirking like he had won the magical lottery.
But that wasn't even the crown jewel of his training spree.
The best skill Claude had unlocked was the ability to sense Aether. Subtly, sure, but still. It was enough. According to Roy, this ability normally took a grueling year to develop because it required constantly channeling Aether directly into the brain without accidentally turning yourself into a vegetable.
Roy had reasoned that Claude's "prior experience" must have helped him achieve it in just a week.
Of course, Roy didn't know that Claude was not Elyas.
Claude had no experience. None. Zero.
'I might actually be talented and cool.'
Claude grinned to himself, a smug little smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he basked in the glory of his own greatness. In just five days, he had accomplished what should have taken an entire year. He was unstoppable.
Unfortunately, that tiny bubble of self-satisfaction popped the moment he remembered what day it was.
Friday.
Reality crashed back down on him like a waterfall.
He thought about hiding somewhere until this whole noble ball nonsense blew over. Maybe he could squeeze himself behind a tapestry and live there until old age.
But no. That wasn't a real option.
With all the enthusiasm of a man walking to his own execution, Claude heaved himself out of the bath, water dripping off his skin as he shuffled to the dressing room.
The dressing room was just as over-the-top as the bathroom, massive oak wardrobes lined the walls, each crammed with silk, velvet, and leather garments fit for a spoiled noble brat. Perfumed sachets tucked into the drawers filled the room with an overwhelmingly floral smell that made Claude want to sneeze.
As he tugged on the stiff, formal clothes laid out for him, he had another lovely, anxiety-inducing thought.
'Where the hell are the other nobles? They should've arrived by now!'
Claude frowned as he straightened his cravat.
In the outskirts, transportation was a joke. If you wanted to get somewhere, you either walked until your legs gave out or sat in a rattling carriage for days while losing your sanity one pothole at a time.
But he wasn't naïve enough to think the rest of the world was just as backward. He knew there was a "train," a hulking, metal monstrosity that could transport hundreds of people across hundreds of miles in mere hours.
Still, there were no nearby train stations to the Eversley Barony.
And yet...
Howard had managed to travel to the capital and back in three days. Lloyd had returned two days early like it was no big deal.
To Claude, that was nothing short of teleportation.
'Are they teleporting? Wouldn't even be surprising considering the amount of bullshit nobles get away with!'
Honestly, if they could just poof from place to place, Claude was going to file that information somewhere very, very important. Right next to "reasons to never piss off a real noble."
At least Claude could count himself lucky. He wouldn't have to spend days crammed into a carriage listening to the grating conversations of nobles who could smell a fraud
from a mile away.
Small blessings.
After wrestling himself into the final piece of his outfit, a deep navy coat embroidered with silver threads that probably cost more than his soul, Claude stepped out and made his way toward the ballroom.
Roy followed silently behind him, the perfect image of a dutiful bodyguard. Or a grim reaper. Same energy.
As they walked through the endless, pristine halls, Claude noticed the servants bustling like ants on a sugar high, scrubbing every visible surface until it gleamed. The floors were so polished he could almost see his reflection in them. Even the chandeliers above had been freshly dusted, their crystals throwing scattered rainbows across the marble walls.
By the time Claude reached the ballroom doors, the place already looked like something out of a ridiculous fairytale. Servants flitted around like panicked birds while Matilda, ever the taskmaster, barked orders at them with a terrifying smile plastered on her face.
Claude did not pay her much attention until he saw her marching straight toward him.
"Elyas!" she called out brightly.
Claude briefly considered pretending he was deaf, blind, and mute. Maybe even fake a seizure for good measure.
But no, he could not dodge this one.
"Y-yes, Mother?" Claude said, forcing himself to stop and face her.
Matilda's eyes practically twinkled.
"Are you excited for the ball today?"
Claude stared at her, completely lost.
'Of course not! What kind of stupid question is that?! Do you take me for someone who enjoys suicide?!'
But outwardly, he mustered a polite, deferential smile like a good little noble boy.
"Y-yes, M-mother…"
Matilda, pleased, patted his shoulder and floated away like a queen dismissing her servant.
'Yeah, go away before you ask something even dumber.'
Suddenly, Claude felt it, a weird ripple in the Aether outside. A faint pulse, like the air itself holding its breath.
Roy turned toward him sharply.
"Seems like our first guests are arriving."
Claude glanced out the nearest window.
And immediately did a double take.
'There's no way…'
Hovering in the sky, wings spread wide and casting a monstrous shadow across the estate, was a creature. Its leathery wings beat the air with slow, thundering force, and its long serpentine body gleamed under the dying light of the evening. It looked like some horrid fusion of bird and dragon, an ancient beast plucked straight out of a nightmare.
And strapped along its massive back were carriages, shining and ornate, as nobles disembarked with the elegance of people completely unbothered by the fact they were riding a giant airborne death machine.
Claude stared, slack-jawed.
Of course. Because walking and trains were for peasants. Nobles arrived riding winged monsters now. Naturally.
Why wouldn't they?
And that was only the beginning.